Chapter 52

Cooking was never my forte. My culinary repertoire consisted of exactly one dish: carbonara. Simple enough to be foolproof - or so I'd always thought.

Yet today, each attempt was an abject failure. Overcooked pasta, curdled sauce - as if the kitchen itself was rejecting my efforts.

I ate each failed attempt myself.

The clock ticked mercilessly as I mentally counted down.

I imagined Luke would arrive, we'd have his birthday dinner, and then I'd vanish from his life. Like waiting for an execution.

But he never showed.

Instead, came a phone call dripping with transparent deceit. "Mandy cut her finger while cooking," he said with exaggerated concern, "had to take her to the ER. Don't wait up."

The casual cruelty of his lies was almost comical in its absurdity.

revealed the truth: a fresh post showing them celebrating, wrapped

there?" Luke's impatient voice cut through

don't worry

burner account, then dumped the carbonara into the trash - a

was just another completed chapter in Luke's story. Fine. I'd release him from his obligation.

hallway, marking the rhythm of

- the late-night messages, intimate

affair. Then posted it where our mutual friends

they wouldn't get to rewrite this

takeoff, I sent one final

didn't formally

in seven years, I'd never truly

Content belong.net stand-in until

he'd brushed aside without a second

it exploded with notifications, his name flashing like an

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